Moments
by Alialka
Summary: It's not about big words and declarations. It's all about the short whiles and fleeting moments of everyday life. A collection of Cloud and Tifa drabbles. Rated M for some later chapters.
1. Drop

**Author's Note:**

**Well here we go! :)**

**The whole collection is dedicated to the wonderful Fairheartstrife (not to mention - a little bribe...), so I hope you enjoy :)**

**_Moments_**

**_chapter 1: drop  
_**

* * *

The air changed its quality, gaining a freshness so typical for the very first days of Spring. And the first heavy rains fell, vast lands drinking up the water with greed, naked trees reaching out towards the heavens with their branches, like women raising their arms with offerings for the gods.

Cloud wiped his goggles clean with an impatient move, cursing inwardly at the sudden rainfall and not paying attention to the nature's awakening from the wintery slumber. Even if it shouldn't be too much of a surprise – the seasons were changing, and for the whole day he witnessed black clouds gathering over his head. And of course the rain had to start when he was ALMOST home…

When he finally reached Edge, he was soaked through and through and there was that unpleasant impression that small lakes formed inside of his boots. And he tried really hard to ignore the amount of mud covering Fenrir right now, in his mind already seeing all the scrubbing he will have to do to get the varnish looking as it should.

"Screw this" he muttered as he drove through enormous puddles "I'm taking tomorrow off"

Within his mind he could already hear the scolding he was sure to receive, and dammit it wasn't his fault he was driving through a friggin' rainstorm. Alright, so maybe he shouldn't make his stay at the Golden Saucer as long as he had, but the urge to participate in at least one tournament was too big not to comply…

Fenrir slid through the muddy streets as he hit the brakes all of the sudden, a familiar flash of cream and black catching his attention. With utter surprise, he turned around and almost ripped the goggles of his head.

Well… he guessed he wouldn't hear a thing today as it was Tifa herself, sitting on a swing and looking towards the skies with a small smile on her face as the angered drops splashed on her skin. With long legs stretched out comfortably and slender fingers wrapped gently around the chains.

And Cloud really couldn't tell how come the mere sight of her could leave him breathless.

Maybe it was in the way the water slid down her cheeks and over the soft lines of her lips, and he could swear the rain itself was kissing every inch on its way.

Or maybe how her wet hair was sticking to her skin, dark strands teasingly licking at the alabaster tissue.

Or maybe it was just the sheer fact that it was _her_ and the rain dancing all around, and she seemed to absorb every color of the sudden downpour with each single cell in her body.

It was then, as the soft purring of Fenrir's engine reached her ears through the grey torrent and the heavy lids fluttered open, elegant neck turning and burning red eyes rested on his frame.

His breath was gone somewhere as realization dawned upon him, how much alive she was right in that very moment. How much she shined, and how easily could she break and shatter despite her marvelous strength.

In that they were so much alike… bright and dark, and their world painted with every grey shade possible. They were like a unfinished sketch, with its rough lines but hiding a much softer side.

The air was burning his lungs as Cloud finally took a breath, waiting and watching as she moved in an unhurried way, taking slow steps, one foot in front of another, open palms brushing against her black clad hips.

He reached out first, the worn out leather of his gloves sliding with the greatest of ease on her slick skin.

Oh how he loved the feel of her lips moving against his, and he knew he could never tire of this. Of the scent and the taste and that soft hum that vibrated from the depths of her throat as she leaned onto him, hands clenching on the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. Of how their every kiss meant everything, represented every tear of despair and happiness, every good and pain filled memory and every single moment of weakens and retrieved strength.

Her eyes were like burning ambers beneath the lashes as Tifa not once looked, a soft, loving smile gracing her lips as they pulled away, the smell of rain and steel overcoming their senses.

"I thought the whole day about this" she breathed against his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth one last time "And I just had to come out and meet you…"

"I'm glad you did"

Tifa smiled at him again and then slid behind, her arms coming round his middle, her body a comfortable weight and warmth at his back.

"Tifa…" he turned his head slightly, his nose bumping against his cheek.

"Mhmm?" and her response was a soft purr that would wash over both of them, stirring something deep inside him, ringing louder than bells in his ears yet still almost drowned out by the engine's growl.

"You should go out in the rain more often"

She laughed and pressed her lips to the flash of skin on his neck, as the motorcycle growled with new anger, and then the streets became a hazy blur.

Cloud smiled lightly, the cutting touch of the watery torrent didn't bother him anymore.

And she was so beautiful in the rain with him.


	2. Lick

**_Moments_**

**_chapter 2: lick  
_**

* * *

It was the silence that welcomed him, as he stepped over the threshold of bar and home, silence that blanketed over the premises like a thick woolen blanket. It was still and warm, with air still smelling faintly with cheap cigarette smoke and sweat. It was nothing new, nothing surprising, but still it unnerved him.

There was something else, something was _off _ on this very night, and it gnawed slowly on his burned out nerves from the very moment the door closed gently behind him.

Tiredness giving way to anxiety, muscles that began to relax as soon as he slipped off the comfortable leather of Fenrir's seat once again stiffened. His vision once again sharp, as he looked around carefully, blurry shadows regaining the all familiar shapes. Tables clean, chairs neatly placed on them, the wooden floors still bearing the traces of mopping.

This was everything he expected to return to…

Upstairs, the silence grew bigger, it's soundless bells ringing in his ears right along his shaking breath. The children were sleeping, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact that something was wrong, so wrong … Even if the sight of both of the young ones deep in slumber, both covered with their quilts almost to the tip of the small noses, brought the much needed feeling of tranquility every single time he checked on them, tonight it seemed it was not that easy… Strange, unexplainable worry tugged at his heart with small, sharp claws.

And it continued to grow, continued to spread through his body with his freezing blood and the sudden sense of something vital slipping through his fingers. But it all came to a sudden halt, his heart seemed to take one last beat as tired lungs gave one last exhale. Every little thing he felt in the short, yet long span of just a few minutes was wiped away, replaced by a void, an emptiness of solid black.

And all it took was opening his own door.

Maybe he really shouldn't be surprised that it was her who was the cause of this strange disharmony he felt. After all, she held all of their worlds, be it broken or small, in her hands.

Maybe he should have known it was something connected with her from the very beginning, because it was a dark night, with the winds howling like wounded wolves in the vast desserts. And he knew what demons awakened on nights like that… After all, he battled the same ones more than one time.

Still the void pulsed, threatening to grow and consume more, as his eyes, both bright and dark, traced the outlines of the small figure seated on the window sill. The room around faded, leaving nothing but her outlines on the dirty canvas of the world outside the cold glass.

The bag slid of his shoulder, a small thud reaching his ears as it fell to the floor, grazing his leg on its way. But all he saw was the messy brown locks, soft tufts falling into claret eyes that were looking somewhere into the darkness of the night, but as unseeing as those of a blind. Alabaster skin gone under the cheap fabric of grey, legs hidden by the ugly brown pants he never liked, old from wear and with small feet peeking from under the frayed rim. One leg bent, willowy arm resting on the curve of her knee, and she'd rest her chin on top of it. The other limb dangling towards the floor, her left palm resting on the flat surface of a strong thigh.

Despite her even breaths, despite the lack of even one muscle moving upon his entry, he somehow knew that she was fully aware of his presence.

Not one word slipped pass those lips he loved to see stretched in a heartwarming smile, as he moved around quietly, always keeping her in his sight, not once turning his back on her fully. Feeling the all too familiar darkness wrapping its haunted arms around her strong frame.

"Your room has a nice view"

Those words came in a soft sigh only after he was finished, bills and new orders neatly placed on the small surface of his desk and the pitch dark of the room was broken by the faint light of a small lamp.

Fair brows wandered up, and his fingers brushed against the soft skin on her foot, as he slipped into the vacant spot on the sill, as he turned to see what was so eye-catching in the view outside.

Over the rooftops of the few nearby buildings, inches above the steel, he could see the vast wastelands formed of stone and sand. They reached towards the far horizon, where the hills begun… Where life began and where life ended.

She sighed again, lifting her head from its comfortable resting place on the softness of her own arm, letting it lean back, lean onto the cold metal of the frame. Slim fingers tightened on the worn out cotton of her shirt, as the wind cried in the distance.

How long they sat like that, in this disturbed silence that brought comfort and unease at the same time, soothing and picking at his skin? How many short moments passed with her unseeing eyes trying to reach over the dirty beige of the sands, and his watching her with thousands of thoughts and not even a single word?

"I feel like still burning" her hand rubbed gently her stomach and lips twisted in a half stopped grimace.

He saw with his own eyes, traced with his own fingers the sickingly pale waves of healed scars marring her abdomen one time too many not to know. To pretend he didn't realize why she was pressed up against the cold glass, as deep down inside she was a sunny person who enjoyed the kisses sun would spill over her skin.

Her hand was small and strong and solid in his, as always she has been in his life. Not once did he mind she wasn't all velvet and silk, and the feel of the hardened skin under his lips was as overwhelming now as it was for the first time. His kiss pressed to the inside of her palm brought relief and a flash of pain, but the dark around her dissolved into the grey shades with every breath.

And her fingers curled around the tired lines of his face.


	3. With tender loving care

**Author's Note:**

**Happy Bday! :)**

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 3: with tender loving care

* * *

**_

It felt like someone would take a warrior's axe, heat it up till it's deadly blade was burning red and took a swing, driving it trough her skull. And then leave it there to cool down.

The saying 'splitting headache' got a new meaning.

Her lids were suddenly made of lead and opening her eyes seemed to be the hardest task since … forever probably. But she still managed, and regretted the very moment she did that. Even despite the fact that the blinds were down, the faint light seeping through them made her want to pry her own eyes out. Light was bad. Very bad.

And she was freezing, her body wrecking with violent shivers , her hands and feet icy as she tried to curl up into the smallest of balls she could.

Someone… please… make the world stop.

The noises were muffled, and unclear, coming maybe from downstairs, or maybe it was the room next to hers?

Tifa hated getting sick with a passion.

With a soft grunt she curled even more, trying to hide herself from the cool air that filled her room, the quilt pulled up to her brows.

One of the kids, Denzel most likely, ran down the stairs, the thumping he cause aggravated the little men hibernating in her skull and they began drilling through her already tortured brain with sharp ice-picks.

A low, pained grunt made its way from her throat , and she was sure it ripped the tissue apart on the way out.

Ice cold hands pressed to her eyes, the thin skin of the lids seemed to burn and she was tired of the contrast she was currently made of. Freezing yet her whole body covered with a shine of sweat, parts of her seemed to be licked by liquid fire while others could surely cool down any drink…

The voices, those buzzing annoying voices she loved to hear every other day, faded out, and she wasn't sure if she really heard the door slam close or was it only her imagination playing feverish tricks on her.

But it was all quiet afterwards and she could hear her lungs protest with each heavy breath she took, as the air seemed to be too heavy and too moist for them.

The door opened with a soft sound of wood against wood, as it slid over the clean floor. The faint smell of herbs reached her dulled senses and she forced herself to open her eyes. Despite the tears that glazed her sight the very moment she did so, her dry lips tried to stretch in a smile.

"Hey…" Cloud placed the steaming medicine on the table, then kneeled next to the bed, fair brows knitting "I sent the kids to Elmyra. I didn't think you would feel to good with the running around"

Tifa nodded ever so lightly, cheek grazing against the pillow and she winced, as the world spinning. Moving was baaad…

A cool hand pressed to her forehead and she sighed with relief, eyes that shone because of fever closing.

"You're burning up again…" he frowned, sliding his fingers down her burning face.

"Kh..loud.." his name sounded foreign in her own ears and her mouth twitched with annoy at the sickness.

Strong, but surprisingly soft fingers brushed a few damp strands from her face.

"I'm not going anywhere" he reassured her in more ways than one, adjusting the quilt on her so not even an inch of heated skin was uncovered.

Heavy lids opened again, just in time to see the most gentle of smiles tug his lips upwards, and then they slid closed again.

Those fingers where gently stroking her cheek and for the first time in life Tifa thought that maybe being sick wasn't all that bad.

"I'm going to be right here when you wake up…" his voice faded as she slipped into a feverish dream.

Not bad at all.


	4. Scented Paper

**_Moments_**

**_chapter 4: scented paper  


* * *

  
_**

Many years have passed since we first met.

Many things have happened, some of which we never even dared to dream about, be it with hope or fear. We lost so much but gained even more, over the days that melted into night so well that we couldn't tell those two apart.

And now...with this rare honesty I can say, these are the best days of my life. I know I may be harsh from time to time, that I may seem full of myself... But without you I wouldn't be here, right in this very place I am now.

You know it's not true, the way I behave. An act I've been putting up for so many years... You know it's not true, a façade for the world to see, and for you to rip off with your strong hands . Only sometimes I forget where it ends, but then you are here to remind me of who I really am.

My biggest weakness, and in the same time - my biggest strength.

Without you, there would be so many times I'd give in, when everything seemed too much for me to bare.  
When my whole world seemed to close over me, where everything inside me appeared to crumble.

Now, after all we've been through, after all these years... deep down, we're still the same people we used to be.

Maybe less determined to have things our way, maybe less desperate...

But there are things that won't ever change.  
And I can't even say how grateful I am for that.

Because I can't imagine you being different.  
I don't want to think how empty it would be without your sweet smile, without this special air of long lost innocence around you, without your bright eyes and their shine.  
Everything wouldn't just be the same, even if one thing would change in you.

And even if you're not that girl anymore, the one that would stare up the starry skies with awe and unshaken belief that the world will welcome you with arms opened wide…

You still have the ability to make everything all right, even without even realizing it.  
You're still the only one who makes me go on and on, when everyone including me lose faith.  
I never really told you how much I admire you.  
How heavily you affected my life and how much I rely on you.  
How I need your presence.

Despite all the people, who think I'm strong, I know that I need you to be my strength.

I need your voice, your laugh, your smile, your hug, your frown.

And when I don't even say a word.... somehow you know anyway.

I suddenly I feel your arms around my waist.  
A warmth pressed to my back, a soft tuft of hair tickling my neck.

"You think too much" I hear you murmur and a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.

Somehow it seems you only need to touch me to know everything.  
Touch me to communicate with me.  
Only me.

"I know" my hands cover your small palm.

My chilled skin against your warm one.  
I lean more onto you, eyes closing, just cherishing the sensation of you holding me, offering me a safe heaven in this mixed up world.

I listen to your heartbeat, listen to your slow, regular breathing.  
I feel your body's warmth, I can smell the slight fragrance of your shampoo...

I think I love you...  
Your arms only tighten their grip on me and I drop the pen, deep blue ink spilling over paper before I close my eyes.


	5. Fake plant

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 5: fake plant

* * *

  
**_

The sun danced on the pristine petals, highlighting the clean whites and yellows, skipping merrily on the cool surface of the miraculous pond.

The familiar, almost welcomed wave of blind anger washed over him.

This wasn't fair.

She could make this happen, cure so many people, some of which didn't even deserve saving in the first place…. Why not _one_ more time…?

Fists tightened into balls at his sides, the strange burning sensation appeared behind his eyes again.

"How could you?" his voice was tight and hoarse, ripping through his throat with effort, as it burned its way against the chords and tissue.

A pebble from one of the destroyed walls fell into the still pond, disturbing its surface, making the flowers sway gently.

And he never felt more alone, even despite all of his friends that left not that long ago, just after the painfully familiar figure disappeared in the depths. He still could hear their hushed voices, and the girls' gentle weeps.

A soft gust of wind wrapped around his frame, making him shiver as it pierced through the drenched through fabric of his thick trousers.

Soft steps caught his attention, yet he didn't turn, as he remained frozen to the spot, his eyes not once leaving the water.

How come the sun was still shining when he felt like the foundations of his world were falling apart…?

Willowy arms wrapped around him, a soft cheek pressed into his shaking back, and the same, sweet smell that lingered inside this old, run-down church filled his nostrils.

"You'll be fine" he could hear the strain in the usually gentle voice, could feel the ragged breath.

Of course he'll be fine. Probably later than sooner, but he will be fine. That's what she would tell him anyway, to stop lingering in the past and move on. To never lose hope in what the future brings, to always hold his head high…

But she never told him how to live without _her_.

"She just fell asleep… " the blunt of his nails dug into the hardened skin of the inside of his palms "And then just…stopped breathing… She stopped breathing" jerking his head up, staring straight at the burning sun, pretending that it was the reason the tears glazed his view "And she still looked so much at peace"

"I know…" there was a soft kiss pressed in the small space between his shoulder blades "I know…"

"And now she's gone… Gone. No more here…"

Emerald eyes closed shut tight, keeping the fresh tears from falling. She was the one that hurt the most, yet another golden string ripped away from her heart in the middle of the night, but she couldn't begin to imagine what it felt for him.

After everything , after slowly and carefully picking up the broken pieces of himself, of getting his life together… it took one small second, a smile and a dying breath for everything to break apart.

"You know, she'll always be watching over you"

The wind blew again, making blonde spikes move gently with its gusts, and if he would close his eyes, he could easily imagine it were _her_ hands....

The only tear finally slipped from his eye, rolling down the pale cheeks as Cloud once again looked up at the dazzling skies, and the golden globe visible through the gaping hole in the roof.

_You watch over her, Zack. She deserves at least that…_

And he could pretend that those dainty arms around him, were the ones that were always supposed to be wrapped around his frame.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Well I really gues everyone has to write one of those AUish, Tifa-dies little ficlets...

So yeah, that is what I came up with.


	6. Painted on my heart

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 6: painted on my heart

* * *

  
**_

The sloshing sounds came from his right, breaking his drugged dream, pulling him back into unwelcomed consciousness. Back into the excruciating pain, into the torrent of screams and cries that always pierced his mind whenever he would recover the slightest bits of awareness.

As always, he could feel the awfully tight knot in the pits of his stomach, and the compulsive way his throat constricted as nausea took over.

He was still alive… wasn't he…?

The world was a blurred haze of poisonous green that now crawled inside and out of his body. It was this thick, phosphorous substance that made his heart still beat, made his lungs still work. Submerged in it, he was as lifeless as a doll, slipping in and out of consciousness.

It usually were the other one's moves that disturbed him, that made him snap back to reality for the shortest of moments.

Sometimes he wondered if _he_ felt the same… if he felt the needles and the knives and the tubes piercing his skin, sucking out brick blood, pumping the Mako in… If _he _could listen to all those pained voices, to all those desperate screams and know there was nothing left to do except to just… be. Be the human laboratory rat meant to be open and sewn back together as many times as someone wished, just to feed his sadistic medical needs.

If he were to try with all his might, he could force his lids to open ever so slightly.

And he would see the bright blur of a pristine lab coat behind the green, behind the thick glass. He would see the mad way the dim light reflected on the ever slipping glasses, and the faint outline of a sickingly pale hand moving them up on the thin, long nose.

Why did he remember all those details, when he couldn't remember even one more thing…? Was there anything else to remember…?

His numbed out limbs tried to move, as the pain in his head got stronger. Through the poison he saw one of his hands pressed against the smooth surface of the tube, fingers trying to dig into the glass.

The voice from the outside was harsh yet quiet, barely reaching his ears, yet somehow breaking through the screams, the constant buzz of bubbles inside of the tank. The voice that told him to calm down, that it won't hurt as much, that they won't do anything to break him…

Black started to form on the most outer corners of his mind, and his hand fell to his side, his heavy lids closing over burning eyes. The heavy, sickening feeling leaving him as once again he slipped into a drugged haze.

As if from afar the faint sloshing managed to reach his ears, not allowing him to hide in the darkness once again.

But he was tired and his body hurt so much already… He just wanted to pretend that this was not him, not his body, not his humanity sucked out by mechanical pumps…

'_Cloud…'_

A soft sound of a name he didn't recognize as his own rose from the storm inside of his head, with the greatest of ease drowning out the screams, and washing over his body.

And the voice seemed familiar, and it gave him something to cling to. Gave him the sliver of hope when he knew there was none.

Maybe there was something more to remember…. If he were to try hard enough…

'…_you came…__ kept your promise…'_

Maybe for now… he could try… hold on to… that …

The light danced deadly on the glasses, as the professor threw one look at the tube, seeing that the boy inside finally stopped moving, Mako once again claiming his mind.

One sharp brow wandered up as he wrote swiftly his observations in the log.

"_C project: _

_Day ….. _

_Specimen (A) code z: incerased movement._

_Specimen (B) code c: unusual face muscle reaction caused by unknown factor._

_Further test needed"_


	7. Picture frame

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 7: Picture Frame**_

It was the slight disturbance in the air, one that made her brows knit as she stepped into her own room. Something was off, just the tiniest bit, but it was. A sliver of something _more _lingering over the soft, familiar fragrance of dust and memories.

It tickled her nose, teased her senses as she tried to recognize what was it. It brought a flash of uneasiness at first, one that too quickly changed into grief and a pang of dull, well-known pain.

The faint smell of burned wood and a scorched life, of dreams and illusions that were gone as soon as winds blew the smoke away.

The small hair on her arms rose, as it got colder, despite middle of Summer and the sun high in the cloudless sky.

Breath quick, too quick, too shallow, claret eyes widening as they roamed through the room, looking for the source of this sudden panic like feeling.

And it was there.

It was small, and burnt, and she thought she'd never see it again, never see _them_ again.

The wood turned to rocky coal, the glass stained with ugly brown and the colors already faded away, corners burned so long ago, but she still could see the cyan shade of the small girl's dress, and the auburn of the woman's hair, stormy eyes of the man. She could see the small scrape on a childish knee, the subtle knuckles of piano skilled fingers that were curled round a small shoulder and the stubborn, square jaw.

She breathed only as leather clad, strong hands rested on her hips, as lips more accustomed to frown than to smiles were pressed to the base of her neck.

Red eyes were wide and glazed as she turned to face him, quivering lips parted, silently demanding answers, why this, why now, today, so many years later…

"I know you never want to forget" Cloud's lips brushed against her ear, his arms wrapping around her.

Dust speckles danced around them, high lightened by the warm sun, as she found her breath again.


	8. Shy

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 8: Shy**_

For as long as she could remember, his eyes were blue, and heavy lidded, and his forehead was covered with golden strands that kept stubbornly falling into them. They were maybe a bit too blue, and a bit too large for a boy, but to her they always made her think of the vast blue sky at the break of Spring.

She came to cherish them only years later, only as a memory of a night under the stars.

She clung to that memory, slowly discovering her true self, slowly making her way out of the golden cage she was in.

Then there was the bloody blur, and the smoke and fire and screams, and days later, after regaining consciousness, she swore that she saw those brilliant eyes again.

They told her she was hallucinating.

They told her she was the only survivor.

So she began her life again, in a new place, in a place where the sky was replaced with fused metal and dim lights, stench of oil and gas and waste. She rebuilt it from scrap with her own hands.

Her knuckles bled, fingers lost their skill of dancing on ivory keys, red eyes darkened and small lines appeared around far too quickly for only a teen.

Sometimes she dreamt of blue and gold and sparkles, and she would wake up with a tear stroked face, fingers ripping the quilt apart as her chest would rise and fall quickly.

Sometimes she could feel the whisper of a gloved hand against a bloodied cheek.

But she would carry on, straighten her small back and live on, and hope she could make a change, with a burned out memory in her mind. There were others counting on her, and others she counted on, and there was a small girl that would stretch her still weak arms towards her, laughing with both her eyes and mouth. For all of them, she would carry on.

Because it was all left to do.

And on one day she was running, fast and sure, heaps of twisted metal and burnt wood under her feet, until a flash of gold shimmered in the dim light of street lamps.

How long did she stand there…? For how long did her heart forget its beat and her lungs lost their ability to breath…?

He stirred, raised his head, and sure, there were strands of gold falling into brilliant blue and her knees buckled, gloved hands pressed to her mouth to suppress a choke.

The lines of his face were so much sharper now, and his lips harder and forever twisted downwards, but it was him, here and alive …

Days later she tried to remember if his eyes always had that fluorescent ring in them.

Confusion marked her days, as stories and memories and _their_ past didn't match, as he knew too much and too little in the same time, as he smirked a smile that was not completely him.

He joined her, them and their cause, and she could watch over him, and take as much time to understand him and his newly discovered difference as she needed.

And then he brought the smell of smoke and debris with him, the air of arrogance making her stomach turn, as he slipped into one chair.

One gloved hand dropped a lone flower on the counter ,and he averted his eyes, leaning over his drink.

A dust of pink beneath the gold.

And she smiled then as he looked up through the spikes, smiled for her and for him, coaxing the softest arch of his own lips and she felt the shy stir of hope she considered long gone, that maybe….

Just maybe…

They're smiling for _them.

* * *

_

**Author's Note:**

Well this came out a little strange I guess. Set in before and in the very beginning of the original game, with a small twist, because I do have a good memory but a short one, and don't remember all the events step by step:)


	9. Entangled

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 9**__**: entangled**_

_**

* * *

**_

It burned.

Gods it burned so much, almost as if fire would spread within every single cell of his body, enter his veins and travel further with his poisoned blood.

Voices.

Voices that drilled into his crazed mind, mixed and meshed inside, urging him to scream.

Venomous strings that pulled him, tugged him in all directions, wrapped tightly around his numb limbs, piercing skin and vein and bone.

A pulse of sky blue and his chest tightened, fire enfolding the whole of his shattered being, distant shots echoing in the corners of his memory.

_You're my … living legacy… _

Muscles ached as his body weight nothing, suspended somewhere between horror and reality, waves of pain being the only signal that he was still, despite everything and everyone, alive.

Still alive.

He felt the thick liquid dripping from the tips of his fingers, felt the fires around turn into the deadly heat of the scorching sun. Tasted sand and felt rain cut into slumped shoulders.

Sickingly pale fingers ran through his hair and his throat tightened, foul taste washing over his mouth. His body ached again, hundreds and thousands of needles piercing his already ripped open skin.

_Please Professor… give me a number…_

His fingers clenched, as the black became phosphorous green and screams entered his head, shattering the whispered remains of any shields, any barriers he might have.

Lips breaking, tongue tasting blood as he screamed with no voice at all.

Somebody… make it stop…

…please…

_I want to meet … you._

Ice shackled his ankles, made his shoulders heavy as steel pierced his heart. Dusts of pale pink broke through the haze of grey and green, water spilled over feverish limbs.

It lasted for a short, too short, of a moment, as in less than a blink of an eye pain made him writhe, heart bleeding and lungs stopping.

His mind overflowing, poisonous green eyes burned out in his memory.

Black gloved hands broke through the thin bubble, twisting his identity into something else, _someone else._

Knives dug deep, deeper, as ashes stuffed his nose, copper and red clouded over blind eyes.

The air he breathed was foul, reeking of death and betrayal.

_An incomplete Sephiroth-clone… that is your reality..._

A heavy weight in his hands, his body suddenly light as he tasted blood over steel. Turning and turning, out of control, unable to resist the deadly force that made him dance like a puppet on skin-cutting strings.

…no….

…not again… please….

…not again…!

Death wore silver and black as he tensed, alarmed and ready and helpless.

And he fell, into the darkness that spread around him. Lost within himself yet again, losing all hopes of being found.

Was there anything to find…?

…_Cloud…._

The black pulsed and shrank suddenly, screams cut short and the name brushed against his burning lips.

Knees hit solid ground, fingers digging in the soft soil.

Quiet.

But this silence… was familiar…

Sand slipped over scarred skin and he found is breath again, as pain and torment seeped out every pore.

Warm hands threaded through his hair, gentle touches that lifted the veil of blood from his eyes. His vision was still red, with flakes of gold and it soothed his aching soul.

_Let's go back, Cloud_.

The shots, the fire and ashes, pain and green flowing through his veins, crimson over pink … all fell around him, from bloodied shoulders and troubled mind.

Tifa.

His eyes opened and he finally _saw_ through everything, pieces of himself found and forged into the real him.

He was real.

He found himself.

… _Come on, Tifa. Let's go home..._

She found him as well.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I am SO sorry for not updating this sooner, but my Muse just went on strike and abandoned me. And I know this is short, I do apologize.

As for this chapter - it's my take on what was Cloud going through in the Lifestream.


	10. Lace

**_Moments_**

**_chapter 10: lace_**

* * *

Finally.

Relief washed over her as she closed the door, forehead pressed against its smooth surface. The back of her neck pulsed with dull pain, she must have pulled one of the muscles at one point of the busy night, and now she just wanted to take a shower and fall into a sleepless slumber.

Adrenaline settled down long ago and her body now ached as she stripped, noticing the yellow and purple bloom over her skin, imprints of her fight with Loz. Skin that was swollen and over-sensitive, and a hiss escaped her lips as she gently traced her fingers over the bruised tissue.

Was she really so much weaker now…?

She fell, in those goddamn flowers that withstood everything and everyone. She fell and Marlene's life was in danger.

She fell and he found her, bruised and beaten and he thought she was already dead.

Hot water washed away the remains of dirt and the worry of the previous days, blood flowing faster and faster with every beat of her heart.

The shampoo made a bubbly trail down the strong spine, travelling down tone legs. Steam and the smell of lilacs calmed her senses, relaxed her mind.

She needed one night of sleep.

Without waking up to see how everyone is doing. Without tending to bleeding cuts, without wiping black pus away, without keeping nightmares at bay or simply praying to whatever gentle spirit to look after _them_ all.

Tifa knew where her limits lay and when they were crossed and just exactly how long ago did it happen.

She needed rest.

And she's clean now, her shoulders free of a dark weight as she crosses the silent corridor, bare feet making now sound on the cold floor.

However, she stops, barely after passing the door frame, stops quietly and without a gasp of surprise or a rise of the perfectly shaped brows.

The dark is scattered by the amber glow of the lamp and the golden head and she waits.

Cloud was waiting for her in her room, shoulders tense and an unfamiliar disturbance wrapped tightly around him, leaving no room for the man to breathe freely. His hands were steady, maybe a little bit _too_ steady for the bar keeper not to feel worry creep up.

Because it felt all too familiar.

Because he could break.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice soft and quiet, as she dried her hair with the towel.

"I never apologized"

Tifa blinked, hands stopping their motion at the tension that laced every word.

"What?"

"I left you" Cloud's eyes were hidden from her sight, the mess of dusted gold falling into them.

Oh…

Not saying a word, Tifa neatly placed the damp towel on the chair, straightening its corners, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

Was there anything to say anyway?

Cloud, indeed, left her.

She knew it well enough, felt it through and through, she chewed on it and finally let it go. She didn't need to be reminded of the simple, still painful fact.

"Without telling you" he added after a while, added to himself and to her thoughts.

Her lips twisted at that.

Hearing it was so much harder than just knowing.

"I…" Cloud sighed, seeing her still back through the veil of his hair.

There was a damp spot between the shoulder blades, where she didn't reach with her towel and where the ends of hair touched the fabric of her shirt.

It disturbed him, because once … back then when he still believed in goodness of one man… he saw a beige vest damp with blood on the small, but straight with pride back.

It was the same back.

"It's alright" Tifa finally said, voice flat and tired.

But it wasn't and that knowledge gnawed on Cloud's nerves like a vicious dog. She lied for his benefit, not for hers and it caused his shoulders to slump. She needed more… She needed something bigger, something better than just acknowledging the truth and admitting it.

"It never felt right"

"I'm not asking if it did" she threw him a look, but again saw just the messy spikes and hands that clenched on the dark material on his knees.

His pants were still tattered and torn, ripped by that cursed blade and she felt sick. She barely registered how she made it to the bed, it's soft mattress giving up under her weight.

"I wanted you to know that… " Cloud turned slightly, watching her chin tremble just the tiniest bit "I..I would like you to understand"

"I will" Tifa then nodded shortly, feeling weak and tired and much, much older than she really "I will... Not today, maybe not tomorrow… but I will"

Her shoulders shook under his hands and she couldn't do this anymore.

"I'm tired, Cloud" she said looking up at him "You weren't here, but you listened to the messages. And I could hear Fenrir's engine late in the night. But that… It was a little longer than one day… and you almost died twice… You almost _did_ leave me"

"I know…" he was warm and solid and _alive_, as ungloved hands pulled her close "I know…"

It was her who could break all along.

His cheek was rested against her temple and Tifa sighed, body aching against the too familiar, too needed touch.

It was all too much and she couldn't take this, couldn't pretend and Cloud was here…

Here and _with her_.

Everything stood against them at first, experiments and delusional minds, the Planet and its last Maiden, ghosts of past that kept on resurfacing.

Then the sickness and the guilt pushed them apart, the madman once again resurrected, his black wing laying its shadow on their lives for the second time.

Now everything between them was scarred, more than before and he reached for her hand. The skin on the knuckles was scratched, a bit of wood that managed to break the leather still stuck in the back.

She drew in a shaky breath, eyes blinking the stubborn tears away, feeling their fingers lace together, the calluses on his scratching her skin lightly.

His bigger, holding hers gently.

Their hands looked good together, she thought, both with small scars and hardened skin.

How long was it, the last time he held her hand in his bare one…?

"Do I still have you?" Cloud asked finally, maybe barely seconds later, maybe their silence stretched into hours already.

"You always had me" she sighed against his shirt, feeling how her heart swelled and how her lips curled just the tiniest bit.

His lips pressed hard against the hairline on her forehead as he kept her close, pressed against himself, intent on not letting her go. There was so much to tell, to explain, to show, to promise, to…

There was just so much.

"I want to stay here" he nudged her with his nose lightly, causing her to look up "I don't want to let go"

His eyes were open and direct and looking right into her, the way she always wanted to and the way she always feared he finally would. The blue in them always captivated her, and so it happened yet again, as Tifa found herself unable to look away.

"Then don't" it was barely a whisper that reached his ears, but it did and Cloud brightened inside.

His grip on her tightened, as her mouth softened beneath his, eyes fluttering close.

The knot buried deep down inside of her loosened up as her head met with the cool side of the pillow.

Tifa woke up in the morning, to find herself in the safe embrace, a golden tuft tickling the back of her head. His trousers were scratchy against her bare legs, one arm firmly keeping her in place against the warmth of his chest.

Fingers of their hands laced together.


	11. Beneath the skin

**_Moments_**

**_chapter 11: beneath the skin_**

_

* * *

Wrong_!

His mind screamed at him as the chill of the evening hit his back.

And he ignored it as he took those missing steps.

The girl laughed quietly, the red fabric slipping off her small shoulders in inviting manner, chestnut ringlets kissing peachy hued skin.

He never was the one for pink, however her arms were outstretched towards him and Cloud didn't allow a chance to pass him by.

And she was willing and open, buttons half undone already, pale thighs inviting in the dim light.

The cheap room smelled like her, of water and flowers, and it loosened him up. Her touch was soft, maybe the tiniest bit too soft for his liking.

And a pained groan left her lips as he pushed her against the wall, hard, the rough wood scratching her back.

He didn't care, he told himself and hooked one leg over his hip.

"Cloud…" his name was a broken whisper on petal soft lips as his hands clutched her breasts through the material of her dress.

The man was hot and hard and the flower girl shivered as his knee pushed in between her legs. Skilled mouth swallowed another moan, pressing harder, rubbing against her. Her legs weakened and she was ripped of all control.

Her hips jerked, violently, as one hand moved in between their bodies, strong fingers tracing damp lace. Thumb brushed over the sensitive bud, before pushing the soft fabric aside. Ringlets danced as she tossed her pretty head back, her hands clutching at strong shoulders.

He pressed and rubbed and her world blurred to a golden haze.

"Oh, Cloud…!" she cried into his shoulder, faint and weak as his digits curled and pressed "Yes, oh yes..!" hips rolled against his arm.

Red earth shimmered behind Cloud's closed lids and his hand moved quicker, Aerith's whimpers urging him on, heat rising in his stomach as he grinded against her.

Something crawled in his veins with each of her mewls and cries and it made him angrier in his assaults. She was weak against him ,against his mouth and bruising kisses and his fingers that kept their harsh rhythm, a slick sound reaching his ears.

And she moaned again, _oh gods..!_,and her other leg came around his waist, inviting and wanting.

He wanted her to stop saying his name, stop whimpering, stop making any sound.

This wasn't about her after all.

_Cloud!_

His hand stopped and blazing blue eyes snapped open, sweat covered skin filling his vision. Ragged breath rang in his ear as he took in the damp hair plastered to her delicate neck.

"Please Cloud…" she shivered against him.

…_Cloud…_

Aerith's eyes widened, red lips apart as the man released her suddenly, stepping away and shaking his head with a grunt.

Stop.

His blood froze and boiled in the same time, as he straightened himself, readjusted his pants. His eyes found a damp cloth on the sink, she probably used it to dry her hair.

"Sorry" he muttered as he wiped his fingers clean, not giving her once look before taking his leave.

She watched him, cold and shaking, perfect hair a mess and her pretty dress crushed and crumpled, before she sank to her knees, biting.

He needed a shower, Cloud decided. He smelled like her, her flowery scent wrapped all over his body. He didn't want that to linger.

Cloud didn't need her to linger.

He needed to scrub it off of him and feel his skin burn from the brush's hard bristle.

And his body ached, something _dark_ gnawing on every nerve.

Voices from the balcony caught his attention, light and strangely carefree, as if they weren't chasing a ghost that left blood in his wake.

"Hey Cloud!" warm brown eyes, welcomed him along with a pearly smile.

Those eyes bled gold and red for him and his world trembled.

His name on her lips…

She wouldn't mewl, that much Cloud knew. She would kiss him back, entangle strong fingers in the gold mess of spikes and pull hard so that _she _could trace her tongue along his neck.

She would dig her short fingers into his shoulder, midnight hair spilled over hers as she would rock her hips and bring him towards the edge.

His name on her lips would make him drunk and greedy for more.

"Tifa" he nodded at her, licking his suddenly dry lips.

The girl flashes another smile, a warm one, despite seeing that his clothes are in a disarray and who's the reason behind it.

She can smell sex and the flowers and still smiles at him, because she's better than that.

After all, it's her name that's written in hot blood right beneath his skin.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Alpha/Asshole in-game Cloud.

He just came out that way *shrugs*


	12. Desecration

**Author's Note:**

Please consider this as a **WARNING: **this chapter contains mentiones of physical abuse, rape and death. While I really try not to get too descriptive, I felt it was just fair to say it at the very beginning. If you are bothered, disgusted or in any way offended by any of this - you have been warned.

_**Moments**_

_**Chapter 12: desecration**_

_

* * *

_

_No._

_This…_

_This was not Seventh Heaven. _

_This was no heaven at all…_

_It was hell that reeked of sweat and sex and fear, anguished screams still echoing in the dust filled corners._

_And he stood there, in the broken doorframe, his hands long fallen limply to his sides as all he could do was watch._

_There was no red or gold in the dull brown of her eyes. _

_A broken doll between the debris , long legs thrown apart, lean arms twisted at an odd angle._

_But __by far, she was no doll and the ruin of soaked wood and torn clothes has been her life. _

_The was no trace of the faint cinnamon scent, the one he caught so often from her__ silky hair._

_In its stead, there were tangled tresses, dull, damp with coagulating blood. It's stench hit his nose violently, causing his stomach to twist and turn with disgust and only then did he dare to move._

_The first step tore him apart and with every next one he felt like falling apart and dying inside ._

_Because she didn't move._

_She didn't blink, she didn't react, she didn't breathe, she was dead._

_Dead, used, ripped apart and thrown away. _

_The wood of the floor, her bloody resting place, its__ splinters mingling with shattered glass. The planks gave out a small creak in protest as his knees gave up, smashing into the surface under his weight._

_Hands shaking, fingers trembling as they brushed a few strands of once soft hair from her sticky face. _

_The pain was chiseled into her features and burned into his mind, never to forget._

_He could still smell her__ horror in the air._

"_Tifa…" more of a broken prayer than a name on his lips as he reached out for the lifeless body "Tifa…"_

_Her head hung limply, backwards, bruised lips parted in a desperate gasp and in the poor lighting he saw that her cheeks were chewed raw._

_Silencing her screams until her spirit was crushed, her resolve crunching under muddy shoes like shards of bottles._

_The bruises__ on her neck, ones that finally deprived her of wrecked air, already turned dark, black with a purple edge and their sight made him sick. With as little force possible, he straightened her shoulders, hearing the dull sound as they fell back into their sockets._

_His eyes stung as he held her body, close, too close, wrapping one bruised arm around his neck like she used to do, his back shaking violently and his own body rocking, back and forth, back and forth, a lost child in the darkness with no more light to guide him. _

_The stench of alcohol and spit still etched into her skin, the inside of her thighs still bearing the evidence of abuse__, bruises caused by fists and fingers that bounded her. _

_He caught the glimmer of a broken bottle, kicked between with force, and look away, his mouth dry and foul-tasting and he **hoped** she was already dead by then._

_Cold._

_He was cold and this time, she was too. _

_He wept, his fingers digging into her no longer smooth skin and his only wish was for the strength to make the whole city of Edge bleed._

_The last light of the dying sun caught her blank eyes, for the last time illuminating it with red and gold and giving him the brief illusion that this was all a sick twisted joke._

_One limp hand fell to the floor, crescent marks of dried crimson marring the inside._

_Only the he screamed._

*** * ***

"TIFA!"

The air was sweet as he tried desperately to catch his breath, sweet and heavy, just like when he closed his eyes.

A dream… a nightmare…

The pain in his arm was real, the reason behind his waking up, and for the first time he was grateful for the Stigma.

The image of a broken body, ripped of all pride and honor, lifeless, cold, beaten, the image of his failure… The shimmer of glass, the stench of semen and the cold feel of her skin…

Nauseous, he scrambled to his knees, his throat constricting and mouth watering, his fingers digging into the soft soil between the flowers as he tried to concentrate on the pain, not on the images resurfacing in his mind.

He vomited.


	13. Stillness of heart

_**Moments**_

_**chapter 13: stillness of heart**_

_**

* * *

**_

The nights were bad.

Tifa shifted in the uncomfortable chair – she asked for such one on purpose, she didn't want to fall asleep while watching him – and his body just … lay there, motionless and limp.

How often did she lean close, too close, only to reassure herself that he was still breathing, that he was still alive…?

The skies were painted bloody red, the Meteor hanging among them like a black sun and crushing the faint glow of the moon. Its deathly glow would cast an ugly shade of crimson upon wax pale cheeks and Tifa hated the face that candles were scarce around here.

He was calm tonight.

Just lying there, like a broken puppet he was made believed to be – used for one purpose and thrown away, discarded and useless from now on. She leaned closer, damp cloth in hand, and wiped the thickening trail of saliva that escaped one corner of his mouth.

The nurses pitied her; said it was hopeless, that no one could ever survive such exposure to pure Mako. The doctor told her _don't get your hopes up, he's gone for what we know_, but still she was sitting in this chair and watching him sleep.

They didn't know him. They didn't believe in him.

And they all only brought her food, when she refused to leave his side.

All the nights were the same.

She'd have to change him soon, she knew that. It happened every night, like a twisted ritual of sorts – the air suddenly would fill with the biting stench of urine and she'd have to drag him to the shower stall. At the first time it happened, she hesitated and his heavier body slipped from her grip, falling to the white tiles. She felt weak at the sight of blood on his temple and that was the last time she let him fall.

She didn't allow any of the nurses to touch him. Cloud would hate it, _hate_ _her_ if that were to happen.

He lost weight so drastically now, his body forced fed by liquids from tubes, and every time Tifa wrapped one arm around her shoulders, she was painfully reminded of the fact. It took the first few days for her to stop crying when she washed him; she felt each and every bone under his skin, felt his muscles become limp and weak with every hour.

And the nights were too long.

Sometimes, she wondered if time stood still. She wondered if this was the way forever felt. Was the eternity nothing more than crimson red light in the darkest hour, was it just air filled with the smell of sweat and the silence stirred by her gentle moves.

Would she wait for yet another seizure to come, to help him calm down, whisper words that never seemed to reach him at all and forever fight against the weary she herself felt.

Shifting in the seat, she looked at the tacky pictured hanged on the nearby wall. Easy strokes of paint that created vast green fields and endless blue skies, daffodils in the wind and sun-kissed mountains in the distance.

It looked like home.

Heart clenched, fires rose in the depth of her memory and the breath she took was shaky. She had to … she had to get through this. Acknowledge for one more time, that previous life was long over, with black smoke and ash, her and Cloud the sole survivors.

Or maybe… it was only her left now…

Fingers curled, nails piercing skin and Cloud's head moved on the pillow – just an inch or even less, but enough to alarm her, pull her out of the darkest thoughts.

Cloud came back to her once.

And Tifa knew he could do it again, no matter how long it took this time.

The cloth was pleasantly cool in her hands, as she gently wiped sweat of his forehead and saliva of his mouth. She'd continue doing this as long as it took, push herself more and more, because she never wanted him to wake up to an empty room and the sound of the machines, to the smell of antiseptics and damp sheets.

Trembling fingers brushed the wayward spikes off his forehead, soft and familiar, as she noticed the red shadows change into orange. The inside of her mouth dried and she straightened her aching shoulders, preparing herself for a new morning that rose; and the sun's glorious burn was muted by Meteor's deadly one.

Usually, she'd welcome the change of night into day.

But here, on a small island where the air was moist and heavy, in a clinic where no one tried hard enough… in this small room where he lay unconscious, so still, close and so far away…

For Tifa, the days were worse.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I am terribly sorry… **hangs head in shame** I never forgot about this set of one-shots, but it was so damn hard to write, I can't even begin to explain.

I hope with this, I'll break through my block and update this more often ^^'


	14. Damp

**Moments**

**chapter 14: damp

* * *

**

It was one of those nights.

Right after he came back, gone for a day, an hour or even a minute too long. Right after when he'd step into their house and home, the scent of dust and wind heavy on his skin. His sharp eyes would find her easy, sitting at the bar and waiting for his return.

He told her a million times already, not to wait up and get rest. She ignored him and always welcomed him home.

And it was right after she'd reach out to him, impatient fingers and willing mouth, that they'd tumble clumsily to the bed, her legs already wound around his hips and he himself fighting for composure; that night shirt she wore was his favorite, he wasn't willing to rip it to shreds.

The sheets were always cold at first.

There would be small sounds escaping her lips; not whimpers or mewls, no, because Tifa didn't mewl_. _But instead, they were soft and strong, they were his name and small orders and he swore they tasted sweet. He licked them away from her lips, feel them vibrate through her whole body as he kissed the dip between heavy breast.

She'd writhe under him, his hand between her legs and fingers barely brushing against swollen flesh, and with the most impatient tug on gold hair, she demanded more. Thumb rolling against clit, he'd slip in one, two fingers and enjoy the way she'd press herself down against his hand. Soon her hips would jerk, and Tifa's breath would turn to short and torn, fists full of golden hair.

And he was always willing to bring her to the end of the world.

Catching her breath, she'd roll him over and Cloud would learn that the sheets were no longer cold; instead there was her warmth and the damp imprint of her body. It would smell of clean detergent and sweat and her sex; and it would slowly settle on his own skin.

Her hair always fell into her face then; the lovely gold and red of her eyes hidden, but each strand would tease and tickle and caress as she kissed and nibbled her way down his body. Breaths were hot and heavy; strong, fighter's hands holding his hips down before the first lick came.

Time and world always blurred by then.

Only her could ever make him this needy, to the point where he wanted to feel every inch of her skin and taste every flavor her body held.

Only her would ever demand more when his touch became bruising, when he'd press and grind and she would take and the torn gasps of _yes, yes, right there_ would be all Cloud ever wanted to hear.

Only her could make him feel this powerful and this vulnerable in the same time, her body shivering, trembling underneath his and urging _let go, let go, come, fall with me_ to the moment where everything became only him and her and nothing else existed.

The high moon would tint his hair silver – already heavy with sweat and twisted by impatient fingers – and reflect in deadly glow in his eyes; as he watched her on top of him, dark and glorious, as Tifa's fingers grazed perk nipples, brushed the softness of breasts and lower. Dipped between damp curls and touched herself, touched him buried deep inside her.

The rolls of her hips were like waves then; slow and deep, treacherous and dragging him deep under. Cloud willingly drowned in the sensations, watching from under half-closed eyes, as she touched herself, as her lips parted and she'd lick them every now and then.

Her skin was slick and dark hair stuck to her shoulders and neck, sweat clinging to the tips of her lashes before falling onto flushed cheeks; and as she rode him, slow and slower and then fast, as his name was the only thing she repeated and it came out husky, desperate, Tifa was the most erotic sight he ever saw.

And at the last moment, he'd sit up, gathering her in his embrace.

They'd continue all night long; till the air was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, warmed both by the rising sun and the heat from their bodies. Till she would lay, chest heavy and body sated, right next to him. Till she'd reach for him hand and he'd twine shaking fingers together, fighting for his own breath.

Cloud would move only when she exhaled loudly, red eyes fixed on the golden star outside of her window; he'd gather her, soft and pliant, for the last few minutes. He'd press a kiss to that one spot on the base of her neck and she'd purr in that sweet way of her; the reality still seemed far away, in the warm haze of a new born day and a night full of sex.

And as always, Tifa would be the one to get up first, moves fluid and graceful and he loved how the sun was reflected on the smooth legs. She forgot long ago how it was to be embarrassed while naked in front of him and no matter how many times Cloud saw her – he was still cut short of breath whenever he saw her.

She'd stop by the door, hand on the brass knob, before throwing him a look over one shoulder. There was always a twinkle in her eyes each single time she said it was ok for him to join her for the early shower.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Written for the Springkink community on LiveJournal.


End file.
